To Laugh Again
by tom ward
Summary: Chagum has returned to life in the palace, returned to a life of pampering, never being hungry, and passionless drudgery. Time has ticked on in his absence, memories change, places change, people change ... Chagum has changed. How will his new spirit react to being chained down when all he wants is to roam again?


*Author's Note*

Hey, this is my first story ever. I'm not a great writer, but I love Moribito. The series is just so amazing, the way it tells the story of Chagum, without making it center around one thing, like martial arts, or magic, but concentrate on what's really important. It's kinda terrifying to try and write anything that could be compatible with that caliber of storytelling, but I hope you enjoy this.

-Tom

* * *

**To Laugh Again**

**Alone**

He was suffocating. That was the only way to describe it. His chest desperately and erratically heaving, his lungs burning with the need for air as he struggled to open his eyes. Where was up? Spinning endlessly in a sea of cold voices, his head swollen in pain, his ears ringing. There was nobody in this grey abyss to turn towards, no embrace to warm him when the sun's rays could not. Only empty, metallic voices touched his ears.

The grey coagulated around him to form Toya's shop, where Jin and Mon had berated him…

"Chagum, please remember your status is above that of the commoner."

He saw his private dining room where Head Star Reader Hibitonan had cautioned him…

"Chagum, don't let me catch you talking so loosely with the servants again."

The lectures of his brother's tutor, Gakai…

"Chagum, you must let the people raise tales about you, do not attempt to correct them."

The reasoning of Shuga…

"Chagum, you need to be the hero the people see you as."

The pleas of his estranged mother…

"Chagum, we are only trying to _help_."

"Chagum, Chagum, Chagum..."

And _his_ demand…

"Chagum, you must forget about the spear wielder."

The words of his father echoed like thunder with their omnipotence, rumbling across the dark ashen surfaces of the throne room.

"You must forget about the spear wielder." How could he? How could anyone who had ever met Balsa even begin to forget?

"Forget, Chagum! You must forget! The voices in his mind began to scream with a desperation that he had never before witnessed. The grey was freezing into black. The voices intensifying and ringing against his skull. As a tsunami, their noise compounded on each successive voice until their screeching was unbearable.

Then it stopped. The voices, the throbbing, the pain. He was left there - floating in the dark, sadness drifting in his heart. The space seemed to lack the emptiness it had once held. The energy had changed, and Chagum could feel it. Something was approaching, cutting through fog. Lifting his head from his hands he noticed a light in the distance. It seemed to dance on the vapors, twinkling with promise. Feeling a sudden lurch in his heart, he started to run toward the source, eyes trained on the speck of light. Before he knew it, he was practically flying with speed, and yet somehow he had closed very little space. He sped up, and after what felt like ages, he could finally make out the light. A person, made of a great red fire, their long hair crackled and waved as it swayed against a thin waist. In this woman's hand was a long spear. As he saw this his heart began to beat erratically in it's cavity, causing him to stumble. He forced his pace faster although his legs already ached. He had to get closer, to touch for even a second the fire that he knew would never burn him, to see for even a second the face that had for so long been forbidden from his eyes. A wild elation rushed through his veins, as he reached out to the figure, now only feet away. Slowly the figure turned around, stationary, but still receding from Chagum's grasp. Balsa's fiery gaze met the prince's, and she smirked.

"You still wanna raise a little hell?" she asked.

"What?" By now the prince could no longer keep up his pace, and the figure of Balsa was fast retreating. "Balsa, wait!"

"Don't worry, I'll wait as long as you need. I'll always be there." With that she was gone, borne off into the distance from whence she came, fleeting as a shooting star, brilliant as the sun. Finally his legs gave out, and he collapsed back into the darkness. Chagum closed his eyes, and cried, horrible throat wrenching sobs issuing from his mouth. He curled against himself gasping in the wake of his tears, hands over his eyes. Reluctantly Chagum raised his head and opened his eyes.

The light of morning was blinding, and it took a few seconds for the prince to adjust. When he did, all that greeted him was the bear cross beams of the ceiling, and the gaudy ornamentation of his pillared room. For the next few minutes Chagum lay still on his futon, studiously committing every aspect of his dream to memory. He could not afford to forget about Balsa.

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Well, I hope you liked that, or maybe thought a little about Chagum's new life at the palace after his adventure with Balsa. He's still a kid, and he's now got the future of the Shin Yogo empire on his shoulders, and is being glorified for a happening that he doesn't consider himself to have been all that integral to. It must suck. Anyway, if any of you want another chapter, I'd be game.

-Tom


End file.
